Leading up to its Cannes premiere, the buzz around Nuri Bilge Ceylan’s new film has been positively energetic. And it all led to prediction lists putting it at the very top as most likely Palme D’Or winner come next weekend. Of course, Ceylan is no stranger to the festival; his 2008 Three Monkeys won him the Best Director Award, and Once Upon A Time In Anatolia, his previous film before this one, won the Grand Jury Prize (highest alternative to the Palme) in 2011. Today, Ceylan’s love affair with the prestige of Cannes continued with Winter Sleep and, judging by the boisterous standing ovation the director and his cast received after his three hour and fifteen minute epic finished, the talk of a Palme D’Or will grow ever louder. With good reason too, because the film is a cat’s whisker away from being a masterpiece.

A wealthy man made a decision to lead a simpler life after 25 years of theater acting, and retreated into the confines of his hotel, located on the cliffy outskirts of Anatolia. This is where we meet Aydin (Haluk Bilginer), who spends most of his time running his various properties and dealing with his tenants through his right-hand man Hidayet (Ayberk Pekcan), working up the motivation to write his book on the history of Turkish theater, and contributing think-pieces on various Turkish subjects to an unpopular newspaper. His young wife Nihal (Melissa Sozen) and his sister Necla (Demet Akbag) have their own quarters in the hotel, the former trying to do some charity work and the latter getting over her recent divorce. As winter begins to clasp the land in its snowy palm, these ordinary people get into some epic conversations amongst themselves, their tenants, and their friends. Nobody watches TV.

Rereading that paragraph, it feels somewhat nonsensical to describe the narrative for a film like this. Of course, every review should have a description of the plot so the paragraph serves its purpose here, but if you’ve seen any Ceylan movie you know very well that standard words do little justice to the kind of innate magnetic power his films are able to produce. Methods include conversations that last real time, carefully detailed artistic direction, and (in this case) a cinematography so pallid and desolate it will freeze your bones. There is still a point in naming all of the actors, in a hopeful effort that the names – though completely unknown to western tastes – will stick in the mind of readers. It’s Bilginer’s show, who plays his complicated and inexcusably human character with perfectly balanced grace and arrogance; you’re often left torn on whether to completely side with his views or hate his guts. Nevertheless, every other actor, especially the two women who play such major roles in Aydin’s life, makes a memorable impact. This review carefully tiptoes around a crucial subplot concerning one of Aydin’s tenants because it needs to be experienced with utter lack of previous knowledge, but the actors involved there are equally excellent.

Experience. That word gets thrown around so much nowadays in reviews that it all but lost its meaning. Gravity is not a movie, it’s an EXPERIENCE. Enemy is more like an experience than actual movie. And so on. The true meaning of experience considers that personal factor, makes you feel involved, and soaks you into the world of the film. The two examples given are recent obvious ones, but neither was a real experience for me because something or other didn’t allow me to let go completely, and trust the filmmaker completely. With its slow-burning pace, crucially subtle camera movement, and – the natural highlight – utterly captivating exchanges between every person, revealing the fragile cracks of a pathetically self-obsessed nature, Winter Sleep is a genuine experience. Even referring to the people in this film as ‘characters’ feels like an offense.

What Bela Tarr did with images, Nuri Bilge Ceylan accomplishes with dialogue; one hundred percent inclusive assimilation. You literally get lost inside this world that seems to balance on the periphery of humanity itself. But, believe it or not, that’s just the surface. If you put your trust in Ceylan and his troupe of brilliant actors, every action will reveal deeper meanings, every frame will contain significant details, and you will leave the theater completely nourished. A 10 would be a bit much for a score after a first viewing, and there is a voice over toward the end that almost pulls you away and makes you realize you’re in a movie theater, but I’ll be stunned if another Cannes film impresses me as much as this one has. Not to add more fuel to a prematurely lit fire, but at the very least I can hope that Jane Campion and her jury get as wonderfully lost inside this movie as I have.

Originally published on May 16, 2014 during the Cannes Film Festival

Never have I written so many notes for a film where so little happens than with Once Upon a Time in Anatolia. Mainly because I was struck over and over on how well shot the film is and how unique the experience felt. As I look at my notes right now, about 90% of them are on how strong the filmmaking is and how down-right beautiful it is for essentially its entire running time. Anatolia runs 153 minutes and it feels like it. It is a film that is never in a hurry to get anywhere.

Running at a slow and methodical pace, Anatolia moves like a turtle. But if we remember our fables, slow and steady wins the race. I have a feeling that most people will give up on the film after a half hour, but trust me, those who stick with it for its entire length will be rewarded immensely. It has many hidden surprises for the audience members that pay attention and see the film through.

Anatolia is bare bones in its plot but lush and sublime in its presentation. The film begins with three men drinking and watching TV. One of the men goes outside to check on his dog that is tied up. The film fades to black and when we come back we are in the Turkish countryside following a few cars as they cruise the road looking for a crime scene.

Out of the car steps a bunch of men. Some are cops, one of them a doctor, another a prosecutor and two of them are handcuffed. The two handcuffed men are two of the three men from the opening scene. So now we are curious. What exactly happened? Everything is explained throughout the two and a half hour plus run time. You just better be paying attention, because not everything is fully explained to you. Anatolia is a great show and tell game. The film shows you everything but tells you nothing. Part murder mystery, part road trip, part existentialistic discussion, Anatolia culls from all over to create an at times dream like trance.

I’ve pretty much described what happens for most of the runtime of the film, the discussion now moves to how freaking gorgeous and well shot the film is. We are talking about grade A cinematography here. Director Nuri Bilge Ceylan (who has a background in photography) works with his director of photography, Gokhan Tiryaki, to create shots that are utterly magical. Some of them would fit in well at the Louvre if you were to grab a screenshot of them.

One such shot involving an apple is a true work of art. The shot begins on an apple tree where the apple falls from. It hits the ground with a loud thud and rolls downhill into a small stream where it flows to its end where other apples sit. The shot lasts maybe a minute but is a stroke of genius. The entire shot is lit up by a car’s headlights. Its little things like this peppered throughout Anatolia that make the film so special.

What I loved about the film is that at times it just sits back and watches the characters interact with each other and their environment. It’s never in a hurry, which is nice. It lets the audience relax and get absorbed in the plot with high class filmmaking. There are multiple scenes where cops will take the accused off to a site to look for the body and the camera will stay back with two men waiting for them at the cars. The camera just stares at the back of their heads for 5 minutes as they talk about life and death. One might think this is boring, but it’s actually quite majestic.

Once Upon a Time in Anatolia won the Grand Prix at the Cannes Film Festival last year, which is basically the second place trophy which was fully deserved (the winner was The Tree of Life). It’s a deeply rewarding film that doesn’t give in to genre expectations and at times allows itself to just simply exist. If not appreciated for the presentation of its story which can be tedious and difficult to follow at times, it should be recognized for its rich filmmaking that is truly something to behold.